The smell of roasting boar clung to the clearing. Grease hissed as it dripped into the fire, smoke curling into the midday air. Viscount Leopold’s guards sat in loose ranks, eating from fresh skewers. Claire giggled at something her father whispered, bright eyes fixed on the crisped meat in her hands.
It had been a week and a half since they left Greystone. There had been a few monster encounters, all swiftly handled by the guards and Nolhan. Veronica herself had remained shut inside her carriage by request, emerging only when necessary. Mostly to eat.
“So then Varnell went over to the ledge, and Sophia pushed him off,” one guard said, laughing. “It was hilarious. He climbed out of the water and then—”
The ground shuddered.
A low bellow rolled through the trees, deep and violent. Birds burst from the branches. All laughter died, as everyone stiffened.
The bushes exploded in a spray of branches and dirt as a beast crashed into the clearing. A colossal boar, larger than a carriage, its hide plated in jagged scales. Scythe-curved tusks framed its snout, barbed spikes lining its shoulders and legs, catching the light in cruel gleams. Its eyes burned with feral intelligence, locked on the firepit and the scent of its kin’s flesh.
The guards scrambled into formation. Shields locked into place; spears were leveled forward.
“Form on me!” Nolhan barked, striding forward, blade already drawn.
The boar charged and hit them like a battering ram. Spears splintered and snapped. Shields creaked under heavy weight as the shield-bearers skidded backward, some nearly knocked over. Still, the line held.
Nolhan met it head-on, steel flashing from his sheath. His blade rang against a tusk. He twisted inside the charge and hacked downward, severing one gleaming fang at the root.
The boar howled, staggering as blood sprayed from a fresh wound another guard had opened. Its fury doubled. It lashed out, flinging a man aside with a sweep of its armored flank.
“Hold the line!” Nolhan shouted, bracing as it surged again. His blade carved into its leg, but the bristles turned the strike shallow.
Behind them, Leopold pulled Claire close and backed toward the carriages, eyes never leaving the fight.
Then he heard footsteps. A door had opened.
“Veronica?” His voice carried both surprise and warning as she stepped from her carriage. “Be careful. Nolhan should finish this soon.”
Nolhan glanced back, sword grinding against the beast’s tusk in a contest of strength. His tone was flat. His posture was relaxed; he had the situation under control, and yet he paused momentarily. “Finally decided to help?”
“Help?” Veronica echoed. “No. I just need to let off some steam.”
She walked forward, flexing her fingers as if waking them after days of stillness. Her hair was damp, strands clinging to her neck. Despite the disarray, her breathing was calm.
Veronica raised one hand, palm open, aimed squarely at the beast. Mana surged inside her. The twin rings in her mana room spun faster. The air shimmered, and a small spark bloomed before her palm.
“You might want to stand back,” Veronica called.
A swing of tusks knocked Nolhan clear. He rolled, skidded upright, and caught her warning at once. “Disperse! Make room!”
Veronica drew her arm back, leaning into the motion. Three bright wings flared behind her palm. Violet light flickered in her eyes. Her hair lifted faintly as power gathered.
Then she threw her arm forward.
The bead of fire shot out, small and almost harmless, tearing through the air at terrifying speed. A blazing trail followed in its wake. The boar turned from Nolhan toward her.
But it was too late.
Her spell hit the beast directly, and the world blew apart.
The ground bucked as a cone of flame erupted outward, swallowing the boar in yellow-orange fire. Dirt and grass scorched and tore free, the blast carving deep into the earth. The scattered guards raised their arms against the heat and wind. Nolhan alone held his ground, squinting straight into the inferno.
When the flames finally peeled away, only the corpse remained. Blackened and charred. The stench of burned flesh hung thick in the air. Behind it, the earth lay ruined, gouged and broken by her spell.
Veronica lowered her hand with a short exhale. She rolled her shoulders and glanced at Nolhan. “There. Handled. Right?” She smiled, still brimming with energy.
The guards stared at the devastation in silence. Claire and Leopold did the same. They had seen Veronica unleash spells like that while sparring with Nolhan, but never so casually. And without fatigue.
Just how much mana does she have? Leopold wondered.
Nolhan stood still for a moment, then nodded once and slid his sword into its sheath. “Clean kill. However…” His eyes tracked across the scorched ground. “The path’s ruined. We’ll need to cut through the trees.”
Her smile faded. Veronica rubbed the back of her head, chuckling awkwardly. “Right. Sorry. I forget how destructive even low-tier spells can be.”
Low-tier? Nolhan thought, his expression unreadable.
“Veronica,” Leopold called.
She turned, meeting the weight of his stare.
“Thank you for the help,” he said, but then hesitated, He then coughed lightly, covering Claire’s eyes with one hand. “Perhaps we should take a short rest. You could… wash up.”
Veronica blinked, then looked down at herself.
Sweat slicked her skin, soaking through the thin white tunic she had kept on after shedding her heavier layers. Days cooped inside the carriage, meditating and burning through Kassal oil, had left her overheated and drenched. While she’d been doing this for a few days in a row, today was the last push she needed. Many impurities in her channels had now been forcibly expelled. This also resulted in the damp fabric clinging to her, dirty and disgusting.
She coughed and turned away stiffly. “Right. Good idea.”
Behind her, Leopold murmured reassurances to Claire, pointedly reminding her to remember to always be clean.
Nolhan remained stoic, though his gaze flicked toward Veronica before returning forward.
Likely focused on that comment about low-tier spells. She realized her mistake when she said it. Calling spells of one’s own tier, “low-tier,” tended to raise questions.
“Nolhan,” Veronica said, already heading for her carriage. “Mind sparing me some of the boar meat?”
He glanced at her, then at the blackened carcass. “Yes… I can arrange that,” he said slowly.
The meat was almost certainly inedible.
A few of the guards were sent out to scout the area. One returned indicating that they found a narrow stream a couple of minutes north, cutting through the forest. They confirmed that the water was clear and drinkable.
After everyone gathered extra water for themselves, it was time for Veronica to wash up.
She stood about waist-deep in the river, bare beneath the sunlight in the open glade. Subtly, mana leaked out from her, heating the water. Ripples swirled around her hips as she dipped lower, the current curling against her skin. On a nearby rock, her clothes lay folded neatly, drying in the open air.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Beside her, Marceline, one of Leopold’s servants, waded into the water with a small washbasin bobbing at her side, a cloth and brush resting within. Like Veronica, she was unclothed.
At first, Veronica assumed the servant meant to bathe herself; she paid her little mind. It was only when Marceline drew closer, stepping into the same stretch of the pond, that she realized the truth.
“It really is fine,” Veronica said, glancing her way. “I can wash myself.”
Marceline’s lips curved in a faint smile. “And defy Lord Leopold’s orders? Hardly.” She dipped the cloth into the basin, letting water and soap soak through the fabric. “Besides, it’s rare I get to bathe another beautiful woman. Usually it’s only fussy little Claire. This is quite the treat.”
Veronica turned her gaze back to the stream.
In her past life, beautiful was not a word she had ever claimed. By the time she reached Tier-10, she rarely faced others without layers of heavy robes. It was difficult to feel beautiful when all you did was mask the ruined image of an old gargoyle with illusion magic.
The word was enigmatic to her.
Warm cloth brushed across her back in slow, careful strokes.
“Is anything on your mind, Lady Veronica?” Marceline asked.
Veronica blinked. “Huh?” She glanced over her shoulder. “What do you mean? No. I’m fine.”
Marceline’s hand paused at her shoulder, fingers pressing lightly into the tense muscle before sliding away. “Your muscles are tight,” she said. “Even when you’re standing still. You should be enjoying yourself when bathing.”
“Must be because I advanced a tier.” Veronica murmured. “I feel fine,”
For a moment, only the stream filled the space between them.
Marceline gave a knowing hum. “Mm. You wouldn’t be the first to say that.”
Veronica frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
Water rippled as the cloth dipped back into the basin. Marceline wrung it out slowly before setting it against Veronica’s back again. “This reminds me of when I bathe Lady Claire.”
“Claire?”
Marceline nodded. “In a way.”
“How so?”
She worked the cloth in gentle circles along Veronica’s shoulder. “Lady Claire is a viscount’s daughter. A noble through and through. Back in Ronswick, she attends a school full of other nobles, mostly minor ones without lofty titles. It’s the kind of place where expectations follow you everywhere.”
Veronica listened quietly.
“She isn’t very good with noble manners,” Marceline continued. “Etiquette. Formalities. All the little rules that are supposed to come naturally.” Her voice stayed gentle. “Which spoon to use first. Where to place the fork. When to eat. When to wait. When it’s acceptable to speak.”
Veronica exhaled softly through her nose. She could picture it easily. She had gone through the same training in Annesheim.
“As you’ve probably noticed,” Marceline added, “she’s shy. Very sweet, but shy. She falls behind the other children. And she knows it.”
“That must be hard,” Veronica said.
“It is.” Marceline rinsed the cloth, squeezing the water out. “Especially when everyone else seems to be doing just fine. Of course, we teach her. Patiently. Over and over. But that doesn’t stop her from feeling like she’s failing.”
The cloth pressed warmly against Veronica’s shoulder again.
“Sometimes,” Marceline said more quietly, “when I bathe her, I can tell something’s bothering her. She goes quiet. Becomes distant.”
Veronica remained still.
“I ask what’s wrong,” Marceline went on. “And she always says nothing.” A faint smile touched her lips. “She doesn’t want to trouble anyone. Doesn’t want to be a burden.”
The stream flowed steadily ahead. Veronica kept her eyes on the water.
“She’s told me many times that noble etiquette isn’t for her,” Marceline said. “Why does she have to learn it? Why can’t she just be herself?”
Veronica lifted her head slightly. “Does Claire ever stop? Stop learning, I mean.”
Marceline shook her head. “No. Because stopping would mean disappointing Lord Leopold. Because she’s the highest-ranking noble at the school, even the teachers expect more from her.” She paused. “She wants to stop, but she keeps going out of fear of letting everyone down.”
Marceline’s hands slid along Veronica’s arms and sides, rinsing away the lingering soap.
“…Do you ever feel that way?” Veronica asked after a moment, keeping her tone casual. “Like people expect something from you?”
Marceline hummed. “Every day.”
“Even when it’s difficult?” Veronica asked, eyes still fixed on the stream.
“Especially then,” Marceline said. “I’m a servant. Expectations come with the uniform.” She dipped the cloth again. “If I don’t meet them, I lose my position. Even though Lord Leopold is a very generous master, he’s not benevolent. Make a mistake and you’re gone. Simple as that.”
Veronica took that in quietly. “And if it isn’t just for your job?” she asked. “If it’s something only you can do? Something people rely on you for, where you can’t just walk away?”
Marceline paused, cloth hovering in the water.
“Well,” she said at last, “I don’t know about that exactly. But I suppose I’d keep going, because not doing it would weigh heavier.” Her voice softened. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wish things were different.”
The cloth traced slowly along Veronica’s spine, more deliberate this time. “People forget that being reliable doesn’t mean being unbreakable.”
Veronica’s chest tightened, just a little.
Marceline continued, tone lightening. “Even maids like me get days off. I visit the theater when I can. I shop for clothes with my earnings. Sometimes I request leave just to travel with friends.”
She wrung out the cloth again. “If my work ever demanded I give up all of that, if there was truly no one else to take my place, then pardon my language, but I’d be pissed.”
“I’d still do my job,” she added. “But I’d do it resentfully.” Her gaze dropped to the water. “And resentment has a way of hollowing people out. Being a servant is much harder than people give credit for. It means always being attentive, always ready. And if anything happens to your masters, under your watch—you’re the first to be blamed. Sometimes, even executed. Many times, it’s something out of your hands, and not even something you really deserve. You’re just pushed into it without a choice.”
Her eyes lowered. "I was terrified to have learned that my Lord Leopold had been injured in an assassination attempt. Not just terrified for him—but also for me. Because if he died, my head would roll next, regardless if the cultists were dealt with. That's the kind of responsibility we have. Us maids—we who have no fighting experience. Same goes for the servants and the other guards."
Her hands shifted lower, rinsing along Veronica’s hips with practiced care. She smiled slightly.
It wasn't a smile that Veronica could see. It was one she could hear.
“Back in Ronswick, only two of us are allowed to bathe Lady Claire. Without us, she refuses outright. Runs off. Locks all the doors. Makes a whole ordeal of it.”
Veronica let out a faint huff despite herself.
“So,” Marceline continued, “to keep from resenting her, or myself, I take breaks when I can. When nothing urgent is happening. I step away and enjoy what time I have, little by little.”
Her voice lowered. “Until I’m needed again.”
“…And that’s enough?” Veronica asked quietly.
Marceline considered it. “It doesn’t make the burden lighter,” she admitted. “But it makes carrying it possible.”
Her movements slowed, hands lingering at Veronica’s shoulders. “No one can live only for what others need from them. Not forever.”
Veronica stared ahead at the flowing water, watching the current pull past. Her thoughts began to drift as gently as the water.
Even servants had that kind of responsibility? One where a simple mistake could cost them their lives? Was this something that even Viya had to deal with? What would have happened to her if Veronica had perished? Would her head have gone rolling? Even Parek's?
Veronica didn’t respond again, but the tension in her shoulders eased, just slightly.
Even the most unsusceptible, ones she never would have guessed, had burdens to carry. A simple maid who took care of cleaning and washing could teeter on the edge—maybe Veronica wasn't unique at all.
“Alright,” Marceline murmured. “Your back is done. Turn and face me.”
Veronica hesitated, then shifted in the water. The current curled around her waist as she turned to meet the maid’s eyes.
“Do maids usually go this far for their mistresses?” she asked lightly.
Marceline smiled, small and knowing. “I couldn’t say. You’re the first I’ve done this for.” She lifted the cloth again. “But I don’t like following my lord’s orders halfheartedly.”
She guided the damp fabric over Veronica’s collarbones, then down again in smooth, unhurried motions. Water rippled between them, carrying away soap and lingering sweat. Being taken care of by others was something Veronica was used to. That included bathing. However, it was more out of necessity, or even pity. Not a generosity.
Veronica swallowed.
She’s really committed to her duties… Even my servants in Annesheim didn’t help past a certain age. Maybe it’s different out here.
Warmth crept up her neck as Marceline continued, expression calm, unbothered by the closeness. Veronica did her best to stay still, though the attention made that harder than she expected.
After a moment, Veronica became aware of something else.
Marceline was being especially… thorough around her chest.
The stream burbled on, drowning out the distant sounds of birds in the trees. Marceline continued her work with silent concentration, a faint smile still resting on her lips, as if nothing about the situation struck her as unusual at all.
Veronica looked away, ears burning.
Of all the things I’ve endured… why is this the part that’s difficult?
The water flowed on, cool and steady, as Marceline finished her task with the same care she’d shown from the start.
Veronica returned with Marceline at her side, her hair slightly damp and her face still touched with red. She was dressed once more in her washed clothes, though she carried herself a little more stiffly than usual.
Leopold noticed immediately. He stood from where he had been waiting and offered a polite nod. “Welcome back. The boar meat you requested is sitting inside your carriage. If you’re ready, we can resume our journey.”
“Thank you,” Veronica said.
Leopold tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “You seem… redder than usual. Is something the matter?”
Veronica started forward, quickening her pace. “Your maid, Marceline…” she muttered, brushing past him. “…she is a dangerous woman.” With that, she walked off toward her carriage without looking back.
Leopold blinked after her, thoroughly perplexed. Slowly, he turned his gaze on Marceline.
The maid’s face all but glowed, a quiet, satisfied smile playing at her lips.
“…What happened?” he asked, suspicion edging his tone.
“Nothing,” Marceline replied brightly. “Nothing at all. I only washed her clothes, as you instructed. Nothing else.”
Leopold studied her for a long moment. “Right…”
Veronica climbed into her carriage. On the small compartment box between the seats sat a silver plate. A knife and fork gleamed beside it, and on the plate itself lay several pieces of meat, cut neatly into bite-sized chunks.
She froze, staring at it.
“…This is…”
The charred slices were unmistakable—the flesh of the monster boar that she had just reduced to ash. The smell of its burnt hide clung faintly to it, even now.
It was almost completely black.
Her brow twitched as she sat down, staring at the so-called “food” they had offered. “I meant… the leftover boar meat you guys were roasting around the campfire. Not… this.”
She frowned.
water as a free-feature. There is more rivers and lakes inside of Vitian, but its difficult to make it without the water feature. Along with more land detail but, again, difficult to make all the caves, cliffs, forests, and ruins using just free features. I hope this gives you enough of an image of the world, though.
that close. AI hallucinated).
Path of Revelation and Path of Splitting:
What type of person would you want as Veronica's student? (A person who would travel with her.) Doesn't necessarily have to be her first student. The options below are some quick examples. You can feel free to leave your own thoughts! (Allowing up to 3 choices).
